


Sweet Talker

by kokokonose



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: (Saihara's totally into it though it's okay), Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Classroom Sex, Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, M/M, Making Out, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Riding, Rough Sex, Verbal Humiliation, sdkflkdsjf these tags I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 14:28:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15559758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kokokonose/pseuds/kokokonose
Summary: Ouma can be so, so persuasive when he wants to be.





	Sweet Talker

In hindsight, Saihara really should have shot down Ouma’s idea the second he finished speaking. But he didn’t, because he loves his boyfriend and because Ouma can be so, so persuasive when he wants to be.

So that’s how Saihara finds himself pressed up against the classroom door with Ouma’s tongue in his mouth and a thigh between his legs only minutes after everyone has left. Ouma’s scarf lays discarded on a nearby desk, and Saihara’s jacket and shirt have been partly unbuttoned and pushed halfway down his shoulders.

Saihara can’t stop the whine from escaping his lips when Ouma pulls away to nip at the skin along his jaw and neck down to his collarbone, and he’s pretty sure some of them are in places he won’t be able to cover up without a scarf. His dick twitches at the thought. He desperately wants to return the affection he’s receiving, but with Ouma’s head so close to him, there’s not much he can do except wind a hand through the shorter boy’s hair and bare his neck to the attention.

Ouma pops off after one last, long suck at Saihara’s shoulder and smirks up at Saihara’s red face. “Looks like you’re enjoying this, huh, Saihara-chan? Doing this where anyone could just open the door and we’d fall out for everyone to see?”

He giggles as Saihara gives a full-body shudder and grinds down on Ouma’s thigh. Despite Ouma’s nonchalant words, Saihara can see his erection straining against his pants, and a small part of him goes wild at the thought of making Ouma lose control without a touch. Saihara reaches down to palm at the other boy’s arousal, reveling in the quick intake of breath he receives in reply. “A-ah, but it was your idea, Ouma-kun.”

“What, so you’re saying it’s all my fault?” Ouma’s smile stays, but Saihara can't help but swallow in anticipation as violet eyes narrow. “But seeing my beloved Saihara-chan all hot and bothered like this… You’re gonna have to take responsibility, you know?”

Immediately, the pressure pinning Saihara against the wall is gone, but before he can miss the contact, an arm wraps around his waist, guiding him to one of the closest desks. Even as Ouma sinks down onto a chair, he drags Saihara with him so that the taller boy has no choice but to straddle his lap.

Ouma uses his free arm to bring Saihara down into a slow kiss, one that might have been considered sweet under different circumstances. Saihara closes his eyes, thinking he might be able to pretend that he’s not hard and partially undressed in the middle of a classroom, but the bump of Ouma’s erection against him ruins that plan, so he gives up.

Throwing all caution to the wind, the first thing Saihara does when they break apart is tug at the hem of Ouma’s shirt. Ouma catches on quickly, pulling the shirt over his head, and it’s dropped unceremoniously on the ground as Saihara expresses his appreciation for Ouma’s bare chest by running a finger down it.

“Like what you see?” Ouma’s voice is full with amusement and barely-suppressed arousal. Saihara deigns to give him a verbal response and instead trails his hand down to the V leading down underneath Ouma’s pants. Not for the first time, he can’t decide whether to curse or to celebrate his boyfriend’s tendency to wear low-cut pants.

Saihara shifts around to let Ouma retrieve something from his pocket. When he sees that it’s a packet of lube, he catches his boyfriend’s eye. _Right now?_

Ouma’s grin only grows, as if to say, _why not?_

Saihara struggles off of Ouma’s lap and shucks his pants and boxers off none too gracefully with some fumbling that he’d never live down if not for Ouma’s own eagerness in fiddling with his own belt. Before his boyfriend can do something dumb like put his bare ass on a school chair, Saihara gets back into place in Ouma’s lap and coaxes his dick out of his striped boxers.

Saihara isn’t even aware that he’s drooling until a thumb comes up to swipe at the corner of his mouth and he feels wetness smear across his cheek. He tears his eyes away from where pre-cum is beading up and is met with a mocking grin.

“Looks like someone’s excited,” Kokichi coos, tearing the packet and letting lube drip and slide over his fingers. Saihara bites his lip to stifle a moan as a finger teases at his entrance. “Are you this eager for everyone’s dick, Saihara-chan?”

“N-no, I —  _ahh_!” The sudden finger in his ass is not unexpected, but it’s no less surprising. He can feel tears beginning to prickle in his eyes at Ouma’s words.

Ouma falls silent and stops, possibly out of concern, but Saihara struggles to fuck himself on Ouma’s finger. It’s not enough, it’s nowhere near enough, but he needs some movement, any movement.

Ouma’s eyes brighten before narrowing, and he adds a finger in but still refuses to move. Saihara buries his face in Ouma’s hair as he opens himself up on those two fingers. He quivers as Ouma coaxes him down and nibbles at his collarbone.

“I wish you could see yourself, Saihara-chan,” Ouma says, beginning to press open-mouthed kisses to Saihara’s exposed skin. “Maybe next time we’ll do this in a dressing room with three mirrors so you can see how much of a mess you are from all kinds of angles.”

Saihara wants to protest, wants to say that there’ll be no next time, but his protests dissolve into needy mewls as Ouma adds a third finger in. His thighs tremble, his legs threatening to give out as he simultaneously drives himself down and grinds his erection against Ouma’s. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to focus on his boyfriend’s scent, but the fingers in his ass are soon taken out, and he feels Ouma shifting underneath him, searching his pockets for a condom.

He knows he’ll regret it later, but in the moment, he can’t imagine anything else he'd want more. “I want you to come inside me, Ouma-kun.”

For a split second, Ouma seems to be struck by his straightforwardness, but before Saihara knows it, he's being eagerly shifted farther up Ouma’s lap.

He has to crane his neck to see the shorter boy’s face from this angle, but before he can try, he feels the tip of Ouma’s dick teasing at his entrance, sliding between his cheeks and occasionally catching at his rim but never actually going in. Ouma has an iron grip on Saihara’s hips, so hard that Saihara thinks it might leave bruises. Saihara loves the idea of evidence decorating his hips, waiting to be someday discovered. He doesn’t love being forced to hover over Ouma’s dick with no satisfaction in sight (he does). 

Ouma, sensing Saihara’s displeasure, smirks up at him. “Aw, Saihara-chan, so desperate for my cock! But you’ve gotta be just a little more persuasive than that, you know? Put on a show!”

Saihara grits his teeth, suddenly reminded that Ouma might not be the only one privy to this “show.” But any form of rationality that he might have is wiped out as Ouma rests the tip of his erection against Saihara’s entrance.

He tries to press himself down, but Ouma’s grip doesn’t budge. “Please, O-Ouma-kun.”

Ouma has the nerve to tilt his head innocently, as if he isn’t seated at a classroom desk with his dick pressed up against his boyfriend’s ass. “Please what? You’re really gonna have to be more specific, Saihara-chan.”

Saihara breaks. “ _Please_ fuck me so hard I c-can’t walk tomorrow, please Ouma-kun, I-I’ll do anything, I just want your cock inside—“ Dimly, he registers his voice rising in both pitch and volume and his face burning with humiliation, but as long as he’s filled, _he just doesn’t care_.

Ouma seems satisfied, if taken-aback by the begging. With a blush spreading across his cheeks and a quick kiss to Saihara’s jaw, he slams Saihara down on his cock all the way to the hilt.

Saihara can’t help the scream that tears its way from his throat. He feels so complete with the cock throbbing wet and hot inside of him. Through the haze, he sees Ouma looking up at him wide-eyed, and before he knows it, a familiar checkered scarf is being dangled in front of his face.

“Now now, Saihara-chan, if you don’t stay quiet, people will hear.” The panic in his voice is skillfully hidden by his teasing. Ouma pretends to think, his grin turning sharper. “Or maybe you’re such a slut that you’d _like_ that?”

Saihara opens his mouth with the intention of protesting, but a high-pitched moan escapes instead. 

“Nishishi, I guess that’s your answer, huh? But you’re still gonna have to keep quiet, so…” The scarf is rather unceremoniously stuffed into Saihara’s mouth and tied around his head. “There you go! Now show me what you can do with that cute ass of yours!”

Already feeling himself soaking the makeshift gag with saliva, Saihara gets the hint, and soon enough, he’s riding his boyfriend in the middle of the classroom, still partially undressed and now with a gag in his mouth. Saihara utters a muffled moan at the thought of how he and Ouma must look.

As if hearing his thoughts, Ouma leans in to murmur in his ear. “You look so pretty, spreading yourself open on my cock. People would pay to see you like this, you know? And you’d love it too, let them touch you ‘cause you’re an insatiable cock slut, right Saihara-chan?”

Saihara can only quiver as the words spread heat throughout his body.

Ouma continues. “Would you let them line up one by one and spill their cum into you? Or maybe Saihara-chan’s too nice to make them wait too long, so you’d let them double-stuff you, or you’d _beg_ them like how you begged me to fuck you…”

The thumb that comes up to wipe Saihara’s tears is warm and loving. It makes him cry even harder.

Ouma seems to falter at the fresh wave of tears rolling down his boyfriend’s face. He grabs Saihara’s wrist, but Saihara shakes his head and keeps going, and Ouma is met with a glare from behind tear-dewy lashes. _Don’t you dare stop_.

He giggles, letting go of Saihara’s wrist and putting both hands up in the air in surrender, before reaching down to grab his cock instead, fully intent on making him come. 

“You’d look so good with your lips wrapped around a cock while another one pounds into you from behind,” Ouma says, stroking along the curve of Saihara’s back with his free hand. Despite the steadiness of his words, the flush on his face betrays how close he is to losing control. “With your lips painted red so everyone can recognize you as the cheap whore you are.”

The words make Saihara go numb, and as his legs give out, he clenches down on Ouma’s dick, extracting a moan from the smaller boy. The strangled, desperate noise pushes Saihara over the edge, and he comes, knees coming together to grip around Ouma’s hips as he falls apart in his boyfriend’s lap.

Ouma strokes Saihara’s dick through his orgasm until Saihara slumps over, worn out. He eases Saihara off of his still-hard dick and, kicking away the chair, turns him around and bends him over the desk.

Saihara makes a soft sound of confusion, and the only explanation and apology he gets comes in the form of a kiss to his temple and a whispered, “sorry, Saihara-chan.”

So he thinks the scream he forgets to hold back, muffled only by the scarf, when Ouma thrusts all the way back into him is completely justified. On instinct, he tries to close his legs, but Ouma forces them apart with his own, so Saihara is left whimpering every time his sensitive prostate is assaulted.

This time, Ouma is silent save for his breathing, which is getting heavier and more frantic, but the atmosphere is still more than filthy enough, with Saihara’s mewls of overstimulation and the _slap_ of Kokichi’s hips hitting Saihara’s ass.

The thrusts become harder and faster as Ouma approaches his climax; Saihara has never been more grateful to have the desk to support his weight. He feels the warm weight of Ouma’s chest pressing against his back, and the other boy bites down on his shoulder to muffle his moan as he comes.

Saihara’s knees go weak as he feels Ouma’s cum fill him up, and the smaller boy slumps against him. Saihara chances a glance at the door, equal parts surprised and relieved— although relieved would be an understatement— to see it still closed.

With a groan, Ouma pushes himself up and guides himself out of his boyfriend. Saihara shudders and tries not to think too hard about the warmth trickling down his inner thigh. Under normal circumstances, he’d clean himself out, maybe even invite Ouma to do it, but…

Despite his best efforts, Saihara’s distracted enough to not notice that the scarf has been untied until it falls away from his mouth entirely. He blinks as the checkered pattern is snatched away and sees Ouma grinning at him, only for that grin to turn into a grimace when he feels how the center has been soaked through.

Saihara’s face burns. “Sorry, Ouma-kun, I can…”

Ouma waves him off. “Aw, is Saihara-chan worried about poor li’l me touching some spit?” Even so, Saihara doesn’t miss the twitches in Ouma’s facial muscles as he balls up the scarf and shoves it in his pocket. “So, are you gonna get dressed, or are you planning on letting everyone know what we did in here?”

“I-I was just about to!” Saihara looks pointedly at the other boy, who’s still shirtless, although he’s got his pants back in order. “Shouldn’t you be doing the same thing?”

“Nishishi, I was going to announce our classroom sex to everyone! In fact, I’ve already sent out an all-school message about it.” But even as he speaks, he bends down to pick his shirt off the ground.

When the two of them decide that they look presentable enough, they grab their things and head for the exit, but as soon as Saihara opens the door, he comes face-to-face with a bright red Kiibo and an exasperated-looking Akamatsu.

Saihara stands stock-still in the doorway for a moment before Ouma nudges him out of the way, and for what feels like the first time, the smaller boy is speechless as well. 

Kiibo breaks the awkward silence. “U-um, well, Akamatsu-san and I were supposed to be doing the cleaning today…”

“Right. S-sorry for getting in your way.” Saihara winces as his voice cracks. He can’t bring himself to look at either of them in the eye. He grabs Ouma’s elbow, hoping to get out as soon as possible.

Ouma doesn’t seem to have that priority, or if he does, he’s bent on not acting upon it. “So, Akamatsu-chan, Kiiboy! Did you enjoy the show?” Ah, his knees are locked. Saihara doesn’t understand why his boyfriend can’t just be honest with himself _for once_ and leave without making anyone even more uncomfortable.

He hears Akamatsu say, “Ouma-kun, maybe it’s not nice to call someone a slut until they cry,” and he decides, _fuck it_ , and leaves as quickly as he possibly can without physically running away.

He doesn’t get very far before he’s tackled around the waist, and he has to stumble to maintain both of their balances. He refuses to acknowledge the smirk directed up at him.

“Wow, Saihara-chan, I know that Iruma-chan gets off on dirty talk and exhibitionism, but you too?”

Saihara feels the blush he fought so hard to keep down blossom across his cheeks. He’s not going to dignify Ouma with a response, he’s not going to dignify Ouma with a response, he’s not going to—

To his surprise, Ouma skips the pouting and wailing stages entirely. He tightens his hold around Saihara’s waist and smiles up at him.

“If you’re still mad, I can make it up to you when we get back.”

Ouma can really be so, so persuasive when he wants to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Hhhhh I was so inspired by the number of recent fics that somehow gave Saihara the urge to just have sex in the middle of the classroom
> 
> Comments are greatly appreciated! And also feel free to let me know about any spelling/grammar mistakes, especially because I was more embarrassed than usual to read my work


End file.
